


Like Autumn Leaves

by goldenlionprince



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M, after the Ga, post TAJ season 3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenlionprince/pseuds/goldenlionprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Ga things change for a former god and a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

 

John Mitchell opens the door to his apartment. Finally he is at home. His shift at the hospital had started at six in the morning that day and had been an especially unpleasant one. Things had started to be strange the minute he had come back from his first smoking break that morning. Now it is early in the afternoon and something still isn't as it should be. It is just a feeling and he can't say what exactly is wrong. Mitchell closes the door and drops his keys on the kitchen counter. Maybe he just needs a shower and some sleep and everything will be fine again.

He struggles out of his leather jacket and throws it onto the light grey couch before he makes his way to the bathroom. He turns on the light and walks over to the washbasin, switches on the tap and lets cold water run over his hands. He splashes some water on his face, turns the tap off again and reaches for a towel.

He wipes his face and hands, throws the towel back onto the hanger and is just about to reach for the hem of his shirt to take it off and get ready for the shower when he catches a movement out of the corner of his eye.

Mitchell freezes and turns.

There in the mirror is his own reflection starring back at him.

With wide eyes Mitchell takes a step closer. He raises a hand and runs it through his hair. The reflection in the mirror does the same.

“That's impossible,” Mitchell whispers. For nearly a century Mitchell had seen his reflection only in windows or in the water of lakes or rivers, but never in a mirror. It just isn't possible for a vampire to have a reflection in a mirror. Just like it isn't possible for them to be captured by camera.

Mitchell turns and dashes out of the bathroom. He searches the pockets of his jacket for his mobile, switches the camera on when he finally finds it and, with trembling hands, takes a picture of himself.

There, on that little screen, is his own face looking back at him.

With shaking legs he walks back to the bathroom. His reflection is still there, watching him confused and disbelieving.

“One last test,” Mitchell mumbles into the silence of the room. He concentrates, but nothing happens. His eyes refuse to turn black and instead stay hazel, his fangs don't show. There is just his human reflection in the mirror.

Human.

There is no doubt. He is no vampire anymore. He is human again.

Mitchell has no idea how and why this is happening to him, but it is definitely happening. He is human. There is no other explanation.

A bright smile spreads slowly on his lips as Mitchell tears his gaze away from his reflection and runs out of the bathroom. He grabs his jacket from the couch and his keys from the counter and leaves the apartment.

He hurries down the few stairs, taking two at a time, and dashes out through the glass door of the building.

The afternoon sun is bright and clear now, the clouds that had been there when Mitchell went home less than half an hour ago are gone. Mitchell looks up into the sky. The light isn't uncomfortable for his eyes. He can feel the warmth of the sun, but it isn't burning his skin.

He is free.

With a laugh Mitchell tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

  
The blond man in the SUV across the street watches Mitchell as he leaves the building, stands there for a while and basks in the sun and then skips down the few steps to the pavement and walks down the street in the direction of the park. A sad little smile spreads on his lips as Mitchell's reflection appears in his rear-view mirror.

“Good luck, John,” he says, starts the engine and drives off in the opposite direction.


	2. Time

Five days.

It's been five days now and Mitchell is still human. At first he was afraid that it would wear off after some time and he would turn back into a vampire, but apparently that isn't going to happen. Each day he wakes up in the morning still human. Each morning he feels less afraid that all of this is just a beautiful dream and nothing more.

But with each day the feeling grows stronger that something is wrong. Something is missing, something important, but Mitchell can't remember what it is. And that isn't the only strange thing he had noticed in the past few days.

There is a hole in the wall next to the kitchen. He is pretty sure in that place had been a fish tank until the earthquake a few days ago had destroyed it, but Mitchell can't remember why he had fish in the first place and where these fish had gone to since their home had been destroyed. He doesn't even know how to care for fish properly. He only knows that he feels sad every time he sees the empty hole in the wall.

On the second day he found a half empty bottle of vodka in one of the cupboards in the kitchen, but Mitchell doesn't even like vodka and he couldn't remember buying it. Something about the shape of the bottle made his heart twist slowly in his chest and so he had hid it behind some pans quickly and he hadn't opened that cupboard since.

The second day has also been the day he discovered that he couldn't sleep in the king-sized bed in the bedroom. On the first night he fell asleep there because he was exhausted after he had come back home from the park, but on the second night the bed had felt too big and too empty and too cold, so he had taken his pillow and his blanket and had moved to the couch in the living room. It isn't that comfortable but at least he can sleep there without that much of a problem.

Five days. It has been five days now and it is Mitchell's day off, so he sleeps in and prepares himself a late breakfast about noon. It happens when he finds himself with two cups of coffee instead of one, ready to call someone for breakfast who isn't there, a name on the tip of his tongue that he can't catch. A loneliness spreads through him, makes him cold inside and nearly takes his breath away. Something is wrong. So very wrong. Someone is gone, but Mitchell can't remember who or why or where he has gone to. He just knows he misses him and he can't remember him at once.

His head is spinning. He just can't stay in that apartment a minute longer, so he grabs his wallet and keys and leaves the flat as fast as he can, breakfast forgotten.

* * *

After an hour of running around aimlessly Mitchell finds himself standing in front of a polished metal door only a few streets away from his apartment. He pushes it open and steps into the small office behind the door, spotting the blonde he is searching for immediately.

“Mitchell! It's nice to see you. I haven't heard anything from you in days,” she greets him with a bright smile.

“Hey Dawn,” Mitchell answers her cheerful greeting, forcing himself so return the smile. “How about some lunch?”

“That's actually a great idea. I'm starving.” She rises from her office chair, grabs a post-it note and scribbles something down. “I'll just leave a message that I'll be back in an hour.” She hands the note over to Mitchell. “Would you please put that on the desk over there while I'm getting ready? Just stick it on the fish tank.”

Mitchell takes the note without hesitation and walks over to the desk in the main office room. He knows that office. He had been there plenty of times, chatting with Dawn, drinking coffee, reading books. He had spent so many hours in that room, sitting on that couch in the corner, which now is covered in pillows and a blanket, that Mitchell thinks it is somehow a bit strange that he had never met Dawn's boss.

With a few steps Mitchell crosses the room and reaches the office desk with the small fish tank on top of it. He reaches out to stick the note onto it, his fingers brushing over the smooth glass -

 

**“ _Hey buddy”_**

****

Mitchell flinches back and jerks around, but there is nobody there. Dawn is still in the bathroom. The office is empty and silent.

Mitchell turns back to the fish tank. He leans a bit closer, watching the fish swim around in the little tank. It is a small one, not as big as the one that had been in Mitchell's apartment. The tank -

 

**_Fingers in his hair, buried in his dark curls. Lips on his own, kissing him like there is no tomorrow. Mitchell is panting, pressing the smaller body up against the glass of the fish tank next to the kitchen._ **

**“ _Mind the fish, John.”_**

****

“Mitchell?”

Mitchell jerks around again, his heart hammering in his chest. This time he isn't alone in the room. Dawn is standing in the doorway, watching him with a worried look in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah... yeah, I'm fine.” He drags his fingers through his hair, giving the fish tank one last look. “Just... let's go and grab something to eat.”


	3. Gods

“Okay, tell me what's up with you.”

Mitchell looked up from his paper cup, giving Dawn a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“You are very quiet today and you look not very well rested,” Dawn pointed out, watching Mitchell with a concerned look in her eyes while taking a sip of her coffee. “What happened?”

Mitchell chuckled lightly, dropping his glance back onto the lid of his take-away cup. “You mean I look like shit.”

“That would be a bit harsh, but actually, yes, you do look like shit.” Mitchell could feel her still looking at him as he started to play with the lid again. “So tell me, what is up with you?”

“I don't know,” Mitchell answered hesitantly, twisting the paper cup in his hands. “It's a bit weird.”

“Oh, I can handle weird,” Dawn assured him. “Weird is a thing that happened a lot to me these past few days.”

Mitchell took another sip from his cup to buy some more time. He knew he had to tell someone. He knew he couldn't bear another day with this hollowed feeling inside of him all on his own. Dawn wouldn't judge him or call him crazy. At least that's what Mitchell hoped.

“It's like... I don't know...,” Mitchell started, lifting his eyes from the coffee cup to watch a dog running over the lawn of the park, a little girl close on his heels. “It's like someone is missing and I don't know who.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Dawn flinch. Mitchell sighed.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Mitchell said defensively, running a hand through his unruly curls. “I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget about it, okay?”

“No!” Dawn squeaked, clapping a hand over her mouth as the high pinched sound made Mitchell wince. “Sorry, but, it's just … how long do you have it? That feeling, I mean.”

Mitchell gave a shrug. “I don't think that matters. It's just a feeling. It will go away.”

“Believe me, it matters and it won't just go away if it is what I think it is,” Dawn insisted, taking Mitchell's hand in her own. “How long?”

Michel sighed again. “Five days.”

“Oh my God,” Dawn breathed, clutching onto Mitchell's hand, so her knuckles started to turn white. “It happened to you too.”

“What happened to me?” Mitchell asked confused, trying to remove Dawn's hand without hurting her.

“It's not just a feeling, Mitchell,” Dawn said, ignoring Mitchell's attempt to get rid of her hand. “You really have forgotten someone.”

Mitchell looked at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Dawn said defensively, finally loosening her grip on Mitchell's hand. “But it happened to me too. Five days ago I woke up in the morning and it felt like a part of me was missing. Like someone ripped a part of my soul away. Like the love of my life left me and I couldn't even remember having one.”

Mitchell stared at her, his heart beating frantically. Was it really possible?

“Why did you forget him?”

“Well, that's a bit complicated and it sounds even crazier than forgetting someone overnight,” Dawn said, tugging nervously on her pleated skirt. “And I don't think we should talk about this out here where everybody can hear us.”

“Dawn, please. Tell me,” Mitchell pleaded. Maybe he wasn't going crazy. Maybe there was hope that everything would fine again.

Dawn sighed and looked into Mitchell's eyes. She took a deep breath, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“I forgot him because he was a god.” 

* * *

 

Ty opened the front door with a smile. “Dawn, you are early. Has he let you go - “

Ty froze mid-sentence as his glance fell upon the other person who stood there on his front porch with Dawn. “Mitchell!”

The brunet next to Dawn frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Yes,” Ty said, the handle of the door still in his hand. “At least you did know me. Before you've forgot me, of course.”

“Can we come in?” Dawn asked. “I think it's better to talk about it inside.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Ty stepped aside and let Dawn and Mitchell in, closing the door behind them.

“Maybe I should go make some coffee,” Dawn suggested, waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen.

“That would be nice. Thank you,” Ty answered, giving her a soft smile.  
  
Dawn retuned the smile. “No problem at all,” she said before she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ty and Mitchell alone in the living room. Mitchell watched her go before he shifted his attention back to Ty.

“So, you are a god.”  
  
“Not anymore,” Ty said, leading them to the little couch in the middle of the room, gesturing Mitchell to sit down before he sat down himself. “I have been the human reincarnation of Hod until he left my body five days ago and went back to Asgard.”

 

**_An angel, carved out of ice._ **

**“ _Your brother is a gifted artist. This is incredible.”_**

**“ _Yeah, nice. Can we leave his fridge now? I'm freezing my balls off.”_**

**_Mitchell grins. “I can think of one or two things to warm you up again.”_ **

**“ _Well, in this case,” the blond smirks, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Mitchell, his blue eyes sparkling. “We should definitely leave now.”_**

“Hod,” Mitchell murmured, blinking a few times to get his thoughts back to the dark haired man next him. “God of everything dark and cold.”

“Yes, that has been me,” Ty confirmed. “And as far as I know some things had changed for you too. You aren't a vampire anymore.”

Mitchell froze. He turned his head and looked surprised at Ty. “You knew?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ty said with a nod “You have told me about your … condition.”  
  
“When?”

“A while ago. More than a year, I think.”

Mitchell looked at Ty. There really was something familiar about him. About the way he talked, the way he moved.

 

**“ _I really don't know how you are able to take him,” Ty says laughing, taking a sip of his beer._**

**“ _A lot of practice,” Mitchell answers with a smirk._**

**“ _I don't think I want to know.”_**

**“ _No, Ty, you really don't.”_**

“We have been friends.” It was no question.

“Yes,” Ty said, offering Mitchell a little smile.  
  
Mitchell sighed, running both hands over his face. “How could I forget you?”  
  
“It has something to do with you being human now,” Ty explained. “All mortals have forgotten us god vessels as soon as our godly parts had left us behind. And because you turned human at the very same time your mind erased us as well.”

Mitchell nodded, running a hand through his hair again. All of this still sounded like the storyline of a bad movie, but it made sense in a weird way.

“You know whom I've forgotten, don't you?”

Ty nodded. “Yes, I do. He's my brother.”

Mitchell turned his head and looked at Ty, really looked at him this time. If they were brothers there has to be something, anything, that could help Mitchell remember. Ty had a gentle smile, dark hair, blue eyes -

Blue eyes.

_Blue_.

“Are you all right?” Ty asked concerned. “Do you need a glass of water?”

“No,” Mitchell shook his head, still looking at Ty. “I just need to know where I can find Anders.”


	4. Home

 

Anders takes his briefcase and slams the door of his SUV shut. It has been a long and tiring day with a client that seemed to be satisfied with nothing and a business dinner afterwards. They have discussed the campaigns and new designs for hours up to the point where Anders really had started to miss Bragi. Work is a good distraction for Anders right now, keeping him sane and from doing ridiculous things like casually jogging by Mitchell's apartment or sending creepy texts, but Anders wouldn't have said no if Bragi would have shown up with the offer to make those whiny needy clients finally shut up.

But the god of poetry seemed to have other things to do than helping out his old vessel, so Anders had been stuck in the meetings. Now the sun had gone down a long time ago and Dawn surely had gone home already so he would be alone in the office to maybe order some pizza, get a few glasses of vodka as a good night drink and fall down onto the couch to get a few hours of sleep until Dawn would wake him up the next morning.

Anders locks up the car, walks over the few steps to the metal door of his office and frowns when he finds the door unlocked. Dawn usually isn't one to forget about something like that.

He opens the door reluctantly and peers inside, but there is nothing unusual. The office is dark except for the light that comes from the fish tank on his desk. There is no sound either so Anders steps slowly into the dark office, briefcase at the ready if he needs to hit someone with it, and closes the door behind himself before he switches on the lights.

Still nothing.

Anders sighs relieved and relaxes a bit. No one is there but he really has to talk to Dawn about that door in the morning. Everyone could have sneaked in while the office was empty. Homeless people, drunks, lunatics with a need to kill ex-gods.

Anders walks over to his desk, taking off his jacket as he goes. He stops in front of the desk and tosses his briefcase and jacket onto it before he bends down to greet his fish, brushing his fingers over the smooth glass.

“Hello Anders.”

Anders jerks and turns around, a hand clasping over his frantically beating heart. On the couch that serves as a makeshift bed for Anders sits Mitchell, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes never leaving the blond god and watching his every move.

“Fuck, John, are you trying to kill me?”

“Depends,” Mitchell answers, but there is no amusement in his voice.

Anders sighs and walks around his desk, dropping down on his office chair and runs his hands over his face. So much for pizza, vodka and a quiet night. “Depends on what exactly?

“If you have a good answer to the question why you packed up all your shit and left without a word, or not.”

Anders lets his hands drop down onto his lap and takes a deep breath. “Let me ask you another question,” he says, raising one hand to stop Mitchell's attempt to interrupt him. “If you would have come home to find a stranger standing there in your living room, telling you that he is living with you for some time now and you just have forgotten him because he stopped being a god, how would you have reacted?”

Mitchell frowns at the question, taking his time to think about it. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but he doesn't give Anders an answer.

“See?” the blond says after a while, leaning back into his chair. “This would have been the worst thing I could have done. You would have never ever talked to me again because you would have thought I was totally crazy.”

“So you thought packing up all your stuff and vanishing into thin air would be so much better,” Mitchell snaps angrily. “What if I would have remembered you and came home to a half empty flat? How do you think I would have felt?”

“I wasn't gone when you came home,” Anders says defensively, grabbing a pen from his desk and starting to toy with it. “I was in the car in front of the apartment complex to see if you were all right and I didn't delete my number out of your phone so if you had remembered me you could have called me and I would have been here in no time.”

Mitchell's frown deepens. He pulls out his phone and flicks through his contact list.

_Anders_

The name is there on his screen between a few others he doesn't know. With a murmured little curse Mitchell pushes the mobile back into the pocket of his jeans. “And when you saw I didn't remember you thought you should just go into hiding and vanish out of my life because that was the easiest way out, or what?”

There is a hurt little smile in the corner of Anders' lips. He looks down onto the table, spinning the pen between his fingers. “There was never anything easy between you and me.”

“Then why didn't you do anything?” Mitchell demands to know. “Why did you just sit here and wait for things to magically get right again?”

“That's not what I did.”

“Then what the fuck did you do?”

“How much do you remember from before, John?” Anders asks, looking up from the desk again and meeting Mitchell's gaze. “How many people?”

“I don't think that matters right now,” Mitchell grumbles.

“I think it does,” Anders replies calmly. “Because if you would remember everything you wouldn't think I've let you run around alone like you're obviously thinking I did.”

“I don't remember everything,” Mitchell confesses reluctantly. “I remember bits and pieces. It's like a fucking puzzle but more and more is coming back. I remember Ty and Dawn.” The anger vanishes out of his voice as he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I remember parts of our life together, but not much.”

There is silence in the office for a few seconds, an uncomfortable silence that drags at them with its claws an teeth, before Anders starts to fill it again. “The first day you went back to work there was suddenly a doctor telling you she needed to check on you because of a hospital staff health thing. You've never seen her there before, at least that's what you thought.”

Mitchell nods.

“Her name is Michele Brock. She's one of the goddesses you have forgotten.”

 

_**Long dark hair, a smile on her lips which could cut you open.** _

“ _ **If you touch my stick I will break every dead bone in your body with it.”**_

__

Mitchell blinks.

“We had to make sure your age wouldn't suddenly try to catch up with you,” Anders explains. “But as it turns out it doesn't. Your body is just as if it was on pause for the last century.”

Mitchell nods again and waits for Anders to continue while he tries not to give away that he just had a flashback again.

Anders seems not to notice it or at least he doesn't comment on it at all. “Then there is a new nurse at the hospital as well. Well, you think she is new but she really isn't. Her name is Gaia and she sends me your work schedule frequently so I always know when you're working and when you're not.”

 

“ _ **You're really a good dancer,” she says loud enough for him to hear her over the sound of the music pulsing around them. She is swaying with him to the beat, her dark curls dancing around her face and shoulders. Her laughter makes him dizzy with the youth and life that is swinging with it, floating through his veins. It feels incredible. So young, so full of life he almost forgets he is dead.**_

__

“There are only two mortals you can remember: Zeb and Dawn,” Anders continues, giving Mitchell almost no time to get his mind back to him. “Zeb lives with Gaia and my youngest brother, Axl. I've instructed him to call me right away if you would have turned up on his doorstep.”

 

“ _ **Do I need to give you the if-you-hurt-my-brother talk?” the young god asks with a grin, taking a seat next to Mitchell at the bar.**_

“ _ **I thought you are the youngest,” Mitchell answers with a matching grin, taking a sip out of his beer bottle.”Wouldn't that be Mike's job?”**_

“ _ **Yeah, but Anders is smaller than me so that kind of counts too.”**_

__

“If you would have come seeing Dawn there would be a good chance for me to see you myself when you pick her up for lunch. If you would have shown any signs of remembrance towards her she surely would have told Ty about it and he would have called me.”

“And that's where your precious plan fails,” Mitchell interrupts, his mind still spinning from the last flashback. “I was with Dawn today and she took me to Ty but apparently he haven't told you that.”

Anders frowns for a moment, then he turns and pulls out his mobile from the pocket of his jacket that still lies on the desk. He looks at the screen, a grin spreading on his lips. “I'm sorry to disagree with you, former Vlad, but I have ten missed calls, all coming from Ty. I just had my phone on mute during the meetings and I've forgotten to change that afterwards.”

Mitchell huffs at Anders' smug grin. “The whole thing doesn't sound at all like it's coming from a crazy stalker.”

Anders shrugs still grinning. “Stalkerism seems to be a Johnsons thing.”

“And what if I wouldn't have remembered anything at all? Would you have had a plan for that too?”

Anders' grin loses his brightness slowly. “Well, it would have been easy to introduce myself again when you were dropping by to visit Dawn for her lunch break.” He looks down on the desk again, picking the discarded pen back up. “Maybe I would have been hungry too and join you, spending some time with you. And then I would just hoped you would start to like me again.”

Mitchell stares at him and the softness that lies beneath that words. He feels dizzy, his head is spinning with all the flashbacks and information Anders gave him, with all the emotions, nearly more than he can take, almost too much. He feels tired and worn out, thin-skinned and exhausted. He had forgotten that this was part of being human – to feel and have only a limited amount of energy and a need to rest for body, mind and soul.

The silence between them ticks on for minutes. Anders still plays with the pen, tuning it over and over between his fingers. Mitchell watches him for a while before he stands up slowly, starting to walk over to the front door. His legs feel like he has run for miles and miles and so feels his heart.

“And now?” Anders asks suddenly into the silence, making Mitchell stop at the door and turning around, looking at the blond at the desk who watches him with those sad eyes.

“I don't know,” Mitchell answers and he hates his voice for sounding so weak, so lost. “I guess I will have to remember everything and then we will see.”

Anders nods and lowers his eyes onto the pen in his hand. There is a part of Mitchell that wants to run over to him, take the blond into his arms and assures him that everything will be all right, but Mitchell knows he can't do it.

Not right now.

So he tears himself away, opens the front door and steps out into the night, leaving Anders behind.

* * *

 

The night is cool and makes it easier for Mitchell to breath again. It's cloudy so the light of the moon and stars is blocked out, cut off from the world. Mitchell sighs and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket before he starts to walk away from J:PR.

“Hey!”

Mitchell stops and turns around again. Anders stands in the door of his office, a cigarette in his hand. Mitchell gives him a questioning look.

“Do you have a lighter?”

“Yeah, sure,” Mitchell answers a bit confused, but he walks back toward Anders, taking his lighter out of the pocket of his jacket and handing it over. Anders takes it and lights up his cigarette with a satisfied sigh. Mitchell frowns when the smell hits him.

“That isn't tobacco.”

“No,” Anders says, tossing the lighter back at Mitchell. “Are you judging?”

Mitchell catches the lighter and freezes. He stares at Anders as all the memories suddenly start to crash down on him. “That's how we met,” he whispers, swaying slightly as every word, every smile, every laughter, every tumble between the sheets flows back into his mind, making his head spin and lights explode before his eyes. Anders reaches out and grabs his arm to hold him steady, concern in his eyes as he looks at Mitchell.

His joint falls to the floor, completely forgotten, as Mitchell takes a shaky step forward, wraps his arms around Anders' waist and pulls him closer before he crashes their lips together.

It's clumsy and messy and far from perfect but it feels like heaven. Like coming back home after far too long.

They kiss until their lungs burn with the need of air, Anders' hand tangled in Mitchell's unruly curls, Mitchell's fingers cramped into the fabric of the back of Anders' shirt.

“How did you know?” Mitchell whispers breathlessly against Anders' lips. “How could you know that this memory would be the key to all the others?”

“I didn't,” Anders confesses, leaning his forehead against Mitchell's. “I just hoped.”

Mitchell smiles before he leans back in and captures Anders' lips again.

Home. He is definitely finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: goldenlionprince.tumblr.com


End file.
